The more you get to know a person, the more attractive they become to you. Because everything beautiful you see on the inside of them, suddenly you're able to see on the outside of them too.

- Unknown

Raven had to admit that she was an introverted person. She hated talking unless she really felt the necessity to, and she hated having to initiate conversation with someone else.

Maybe that was one of the reasons why she never took a special liking to a certain dark-haired leader.

Robin was a very – how should she put it? – ah, yes, a very unique person. What people saw on TV was a strong, confident leader who never minced his words. People saw him as the figurehead of the most capable crime-fighting team in Jump City, the man who never bowed down to fear or defeat, the man who everyone could feel comfortable with, the protector, the guardian, the warrior, the blah blah blah.

Maybe Robin was indeed all of these things. But to Raven, he was far from what people said he was.

Yes, confident leader, check. Courageous, check. Fighter, check. But a man you would always feel comfortable around?

Never.

On the surface, everyone knew Robin was outspoken. He never hesitated to tell others what he thought, he strategized like a commander, he formulated plans so brilliant that they worked almost every time. But if you just sat down with him in an empty room, you would realize how different he actually was.

That was the situation Raven found herself caught in at the present moment. Being the two (only) early-risers in the Tower, they would usually lounge in the empty hall doing their own things: Raven drinking her diluted tea, and Robin watching the news.

Nothing was supposed to be wrong with that. Raven was an introverted demoness; she liked silence and she avoided conversations with others like the plague.

But Robin, well, that guy, knew how to turn even one of her favourite things into something dreadfully… awkward.

Raven never believed in the term 'awkward silence' much. To her, silence was something so precious (especially with a certain green idiot who sounded like a loudhailer bouncing off the walls of the Tower so often) that she treasured it as much as her books.

But with Robin, the very silence she enjoyed was seriously way too awkward. He would sit there, motionless, his eyes fixed on the huge screen in front of him, his face a mask of nothing. And she would sit quietly at the kitchen table, sipping her tea. They never talked, not even once.

The silence was so awkward that she had to force herself to initiate conversation. Open your mouth, Raven, and let the voice come…

She managed a little half-hearted croak. Cursing inwardly, she tried again.

"Up so early?"

"Yeah."

"What's on the news?"

"Doctor Light."

"How long's the sentence?"

"Five years."

"That's not enough, is it?"

"No."

And the conversation ended. Raven heaved a small sigh of relief, having done her part. Conversations with Robin were usually made up of a maximum of five words per sentence, and she had already gotten used to that.

She allowed herself another quick glance at the leader again. He still hadn't moved. She wondered what exactly made him think so much. After every enemy was defeated, he would still have this serious pensive look on his face, as if there was something left undone. After his news-watching, he would coop himself up in his room staring at article after article, photograph after photograph, as if he was missing something.

Shrugging her shoulders, Raven calmly walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the rooftop for her early morning meditation. Wasn't her business anyway.

In a dark alley somewhere in Jump City, a small figure sat against the wall, shoulders hunched.

He stretched, his wooden joints creaking. Annoyed, he shifted his short stumpy legs such that they were spread out before him, his eyes studying the joints in dissatisfaction.

He hated being wooden.

It was kind of unfair. Nowadays toys were made up of much cooler stuff, like steel and plastic. Those didn't break unless they were really forced to. And they didn't creak. They were hardy and durable, and parents liked them because when they bought those toys for their kids they had an excuse not to buy anymore toys since they lasted so long.

But wooden toys? Always thrown out of the window for the pet dog to bite and salivate on. Disgusting.

The Puppet Master sighed, shifting his legs underneath him so that he wouldn't have to look at them anymore and wallow in self-deprecation and depression. Maybe that was the reason why he turned evil in the first place. No one treated him with respect. As a toy, he was thrown to the dogs in a matter of days, and after that, even the dogs ditched him for rubber balls. Rubber balls. He actually lost to a round, fat and mindless rolling object. An object that didn't have much of a life. (It was a living thing; it had a face stuck in a permanent smile, and it was much too proud to talk. The bastard.)

And now, when he had finally mustered up the courage to revolutionise the world with his mighty presence just to let everyone know the significance of wooden toys, the Teen Titans came and ruined his life again.

The plan had been perfect. Stealing the souls of the Titans (minus the two females just because of a small mistake) and making the male Titans his walking puppets. It was so exciting to let them have a taste of how it's like being controlled against your own will. Even the thought made him smile.

But the plan had failed. Well, in a way. What everyone saw was how he had gotten his life sucked out of him and went back to becoming a useless puppet, but he knew they were wrong. He was the master of magic, dammit. Did they think he would die so easily? At least he had to make his escape less conspicuous, but at the same time stunning and unforgettable.

He did love his dramas, after all.

Remembering something, he dug into his pockets and gingerly pulled out two neatly tied bunches of cut hair, one violet and one jet black. A smile formed on his wooden face. In all the chaos, he had managed to cut off some hair from the back of Raven's head. As for Robin, his hair was easily obtainable considering the fact that he was his puppet for a short while. A little hysterical giggle burst out of the Puppet Master. These two souvenirs were his ultimate prizes. They were the best thing that ever happened to him. They were his sole source of salvation.

Getting up and heading further into the dark alley, the Puppet Master ignored the creaks his joints made as he approached the large drawing he had made on the ground with a crayon some rich man's kid had dumped on the street. He studied it with a hint of satisfaction. Not too bad, not too bad. It should work.

With extra care, he placed the two bunches of hair in the centre of his drawing, stepping away quickly with glee. Just the intonation, and he can accomplish his feat again. He can control them both again, but this time from their own bodies. Their souls would be his again.

Taking a deep breath, the Puppet Master started his chant. He closed his eyes, and allowed the words to come…

And then he heard the panting sound. Wait, a panting sound? What…? He looked up, and to his horror he saw his greatest enemy standing there, the bane of his life, the destroyer of his dreams. His eyes narrowed as he glared at the enemy, his mouth never ceasing to move as he continued with his intonation.

The German Shepherd stared back with equal animosity, although it was made up of less hatred but more confusion. It was a bit hard to understand what a strange dog toy was doing prancing around the alley squeaking like a mouse.

And then it saw the markings on the floor. They were glowing.

The dog inched closer to the markings, his nose sniffing frantically. Excitement and anticipation started to build up inside it. It could literally feel its soul singing in triumph now. This had to be some new territory, somewhere he can pee on, somewhere no other dogs will find… Now it will be the king of the dog kingdom, and it will have all the bitches it ever wanted…

The Puppet Master felt his wooden heart pounding madly inside his wooden chest (or maybe it was just his imagination). He couldn't stop now. He was already halfway through the ritual; if he stopped now, who knew what the consequences would be? He continued to chant, his eyes watching the dog fearfully. Don't remove the hair… don't remove the hair… don't remove the hair…

With a sweep, the dog pushed the two bunches of hair out of the centre of the circle and grabbed them with its jaws. Its head held high, the dog trotted off, planning to bury its new prizes somewhere.

Then it remembered something. Its head still lifted, the animal strutted to the centre of the marking. Lifting its head, it triumphantly peed on the spot where it had retrieved the hairs from. After a little sniffing, it nodded its head, satisfied with a job well done.

And off went Mr. Dog, new king of the dog kingdom, the Casanova of the bitches.

The Puppet Master screamed a scream that echoed throughout the dark alley, the sheer insanity and anger of it scaring away all the resting pigeons, cats and mice.

His scream was suddenly masked by a deafening clap of thunder. One huge water droplet fell and nearly drowned him.

Over Jump City, it started to rain.

"Azarath Metrion Zinthos, Azarath Metrion… huh?"

Raven opened her eyes in a mixture of puzzlement and annoyance as her meditation was interrupted by a loud clap of thunder.

She looked up at the sky, her eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. Great, now she was going to miss out on her early morning meditation again because of a stupid thunderstorm. She wouldn't have minded meditating through light rain (she liked dark skies anyway), but she knew better than to sit out on the top of a tall tower in the middle of a thunderstorm and get herself struck by lightning.

Wrapping her cloak around her, Raven got down from her cross-legged position in mid air and stalked towards the door leading back into the Tower. What a piss off. She would have to go back to her room and restart the whole process again, which is going to take hours…

And then she felt it. A slight woozy feeling. Nearly losing her balance, Raven grasped the handrail at the beginning of the stairway to prevent herself from falling there and then. Shaking her head to get rid of the feeling, she righted herself again and frowned. Were the Inner Ravens playing with her head again? That simply couldn't be. She thought she had appeased them already, so why were they…

She felt a large force push against her body, and the descending stairway was the last thing she saw before she blacked out.

In the training room, a certain dark-haired leader suddenly slumped against the wall before sinking to the floor, motionless.

When she came to, she found herself staring at light bulbs. Light bulbs?

Oh, right. She must have fainted and Cyborg must have carried her to the medical room. Shit, when I get my hands on those Inner Ravens… Hold on. She got up and studied her surroundings slowly. This wasn't the medical room. In fact, this looked very much like… the training room? She turned to look at the punching bag, which was still swinging lifelessly as if someone had just punched it. Why was she here? She was pretty sure she had been somewhere at the top of the Tower…

She raised a gloved hand and rubbed her eyes. Now why did her arms feel so tired? She had just meditated. Was she getting unfit? Damn it, if she actually managed to get unfit so easily then she was in deep troub…

Gloves? Why was she wearing gloves? They're green. Why was she wearing green gloves? Her eyes travelled down to her body.

Oh my god. Oh my god oh my god oh my god. Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. What in the name of Azarath am I seeing? Oh shit shit shit shit SHIT.

In absolute desperation, she sprinted towards the mirror in the corner of the room, staring at her reflection in absolute horror.

This couldn't be happening. This couldn't be happening.

Okay dream, if this is some kind of nightmare, it isn't funny. Get me another nightmare, please. Any one will do. Angry Raven? I forgive you, you can come back now. I desperately need you to make another nightmare for me because THIS ISN'T COOL. AT ALL.

Her hands reached up to touch her chiselled face, and it fingered the mask plastered against her eyes. She started to shake her head in denial as she registered her traffic light suit and her chunky metal boots, inching away from the mirror ever so slowly.

She was staring at Robin in the mirror.

With a gasp (why was her gasp so low-pitched all of a sudden?), she stumbled towards the doorway of the training room, repeatedly pinching herself to wake up from this horrible dream. Her thoughts wild and disoriented, she yanked open the door and nearly collapsed on herself again.

Standing in the doorway, with a look as shocked and horrified as hers, was herself. Raven number 2 stared at her with a look of absolute confusion, her cloak bunched up awkwardly in one fist, her eyes wide.

When Raven number 2 opened her mouth, the real Raven wanted an asteroid to appear and obliterate her very existence.

"Are you… in my body?"

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